Gentlemen's Club

"Whichever of you bitches brings off the man fucking you, gets to double up in the other bitch's cunt."

* * * *

Eric Talbot had been a member of the Club since he was in his mid-thirties, almost 15 years ago, enjoying the variety of pleasures available at the hands, cocks and asses of its various members of staff. Neither a consummate bottom or top, he could give or take with equal pleasure and ease. But whatever position he might take with a partner, he was the one calling the shots, feeling just as in-charge when on his knees taking a cock as when he was the one doing the shafting.

It was the same supreme self-confidence that made him such a successful businessman. And it was this feeling of inner-peace and security that he wanted to pass on to his two sons.

Thus his meeting with Mr. Colbert.

"I had long suspected that the boys were having sex with some of the members of the household staff -- well and good, god knows I have no problems with a little fun around the house -- but last week a member of my security staff showed me a recording taken from one of the cameras of them ganging up on the gardener's assistant. Once again, in itself, I have no problem with sharing -- but they were really using that boy, acted like he was nothing more than a sex toy, just because he was willing to suck and get fucked. Since then I've made a few discreet inquiries, and apparently they treat most of the male staff this way, either together or separately. They never suck back, or even stroke a guy off while they fuck him -- just use them to get off and leave them. They even threatened one or two with dismissal if they didn't submit to them," Talbot's indignation was clearly written on his face.

"Indeed, sir, a very unpleasant attitude, I agree. But I am a little unclear as to what part the Club's staff and I may play in assisting you," Mr. Colbert said, looking his valued client in the eye.

"I wish to purchase a scenario involving multiple participants," Talbot explained, proceeding to detail exactly what he wished to have happen to his sons.

"I see," Colbert said. He then sat quietly for several seconds, thinking out the logistics of what had been requested. "You do realize, this is not something we normally do. I'm afraid we shall require a affidavit stating that everything that will be done is at your direct order -- seeing as how you shall be observing everything through a one-way mirror, and will be able to halt the proceedings if things should go in a way you do not wish, that will be nothing more than the truth. Also, I shall need to see official picture identification for both young men -- again, to protect the Club should they decide to take legal action against us. I'm afraid I cannot allow charges to be put forth that we assaulted two completely innocent men simply on a member's say so, no matter how respected a customer he may be," Colbert added, and although his voice remained soft and calm, there was a slightly sinister air about him at the possibility of his beloved establishment being endangered.

"Agreed. Draw up the document and I'll sign it. And I'll be sure to have both boys bring their drivers' licenses when I bring them -- since this is an alcohol serving establishment, they should have no reason to suspect anything amiss if they're asked for proof of identity," Talbot reflected that both boys probably got carded fairly often since, despite both being in their early twenties, they could both easily pass as collage freshmen.

"Then all that remains to be decided is when we shall bring about your sons' education."

* * * *

Jeff and Steve Talbot weren't too excited at the idea of having a "boys night out" with their father. While it was true they had no problem taking their father's money, and were quite happy to go clubbing with each other, the thought of going to a stuffy old "gentlemen's club" their father knew was something they both felt they could do without.

But it was the old man's birthday, and both considered it prudent to do the minimum necessary to keep him sweet. And, hey, how late would he want to stay out, anyway? They could always ditch him around midnight -- that's when old fogies went to bed, wasn't it? -- and find themselves a bit of fun.

They were to meet their father at the club, as he had called from work saying that he had a few last things that needed his attention. But all they'd need to do was knock on the door at the address he'd given them and the staff would know what to do. " 'The staff', huh? A bunch of overstuffed geezers, most likely, in those buttoned down coats with all the fringes on them and names like 'Jeeves' and 'Hanson'," Jeff scoffed at his brother as he drove them both to their destination.

The Talbot brothers had inherited their father's hazel eyes and straight brown hair, which Jeff kept cut short while Steve wore his much longer hair in a pony-tail at the nape of his neck. They had showered before leaving the house and their faces were freshly shaved. Both wore expensive leather jackets and black slacks, Jeff in a red polo shirt while Steve wore a button-down blue shirt.

"Hey, don't laugh, man -- I hear places like that really know their booze," Steve said, trying to find a silver lining to the upcoming tedium he foresaw. "And maybe Jeeves will know where to find some high-grade ass for us to share." Steve liked sharing fucktoys with his brother, getting a thrill from showing his big brother that he could be authoritative, too.

"Well, here it is," Jeff announced, as their GPS signaled their arrival. Looking around, neither could spot anything that looked remotely like a club -- no neon signs, no lines of people waiting to get in (always the mark of a good club), no dull throb of music leaking through the walls. Just a big old brick building. If it weren't for the camera placed just under shoulder-height by the door, just as their father had described, the Talbot boys would not have known that they were at the right place.

With a long-suffering sigh Steve let himself out the passenger side and led his brother up the three steps to the door, pulling out his wallet to show his driver's license to the little camera with one hand as he knocked with the other -- again, as he'd been told; something about how exclusive this place was, and you couldn't get in without showing your ID.

The man opening the door wasn't dressed quite as archaically as the brothers had speculated, but in his tuxedo, complete with bow-tie and shiny shoes, the man's ensemble did not bode well for the young men's evening.

"Welcome, sirs. I'm afraid I shall have to ask you both for some form of picture identification before I can greet you more fully -- house rules," the hansom, middle-aged man seemed genuinely upset at having make such a request, in a mild sort of way.

Both brothers knew their youthful appearance belied their ages of 25 and 23, respectively, and so were not surprised at this request. Also, they understood that any place that catered to men as rich and powerful as their father would have to take precautions about who they let in. Steve offered the driver's license he still held in his hand, while Jeff pulled out his wallet and took out his license.

The greeter took both proffered IDs and compared the pictures to the two faces before him, "Thank you very much, sirs." He then leaned towards them and added with a conspiratorial air, "Undercover press are always trying to sneak in, to get a picture of our members at their ease." Shaking his head at the follies of the world at large, he returned the IDs. "Would you care to check your coats? I assure you anything you leave in the pockets will remain undisturbed until you reclaim them," the man said, offering his arm for the brothers to place the coats over.

Thinking it over a moment, but realizing that a place like this would hardly risk his father's wrath just for a shot at his loose change, Jeff left his wallet in the inside pocket as he took off his jacket and passed it over, Steve following his example.

The man returned after a moment from an adjourning room, although he offered no token for them to take in exchange for their items. Instead he said, "Your father reserved a table in the main room, as well as a private room for this evening. Would sirs like to wait for him privately, or at your table?"

Steve thought the private room sounded good, but before he could speak up Jeff said, "We'll start off at our table, and see from there."

"Very good, sir. If you'd care to follow me, sirs," the man said, leading them past a heavy curtain into a large, brightly lit room. It took the brothers a few moments for their eyes to adjust to the new lighting, at which point they took in the sights in the room.

The first thing that struck them was the vast amount of naked flesh visible around them -- all the men seated at the small tables around the room wearing nothing more than face masks. And the men walking around didn't seem fully dressed either.

At a discreet cough from their host they both realized that they'd stopped dead in their tracks, probably with gob-smacked expressions on their faces. Trying for an air of nonchalance neither felt, they resumed following the man towards an empty table. As they walked a waiter passed them, and they saw for the first time what a real Club host's uniform looked like as a naked erection came at them and, turning their heads to watch as the man walked on away from them, an equally bare ass winked at them as the waiter kept going towards his destination.

Sharing a wide-eyed look of shock, the brothers just barely kept from walking into one of the small tables in their way as they continued to follow their host, all the time looking around at the strange sights around them. Arriving at their table the brothers took one last look around, realizing that they were the only men in the room with their crotches clothed, aside from their host. They were also the only non-staff members who were dressed and who's faces were showing.

"Would sirs care for a drink? Our bartender does a wonderful Sex On The Beach. Or perhaps a blow-job?" their host asked, holding out two drinks menus.

"What's a Blow Job?" Steve asked, thinking he could do with the real thing right about now, looking across to the next table where an older man was seated with a naked boy rocking gently in his lap. Meanwhile Jeff had just realized that he could see the thick base of a dildo or butt-plug between the ass-cheeks of the man at the table in front of him.

"A blow job is a slang term for fellatio -- I had said it that way because I had thought it might be a more familiar term. As part of our amenities here at the Club, sirs can have a young man kneel under the table and orally service you," the host said, a slightly condescending tone to his voice as he looked down at his charges.

"Well, I'd like a Screwdriver -- that's the drink with the vodka and the orange juice, not the thing carpenters use. And I'll take one cocksucker, too," said Jeff, badly imitating the host's haughty intonation as he tore his eyes away from the bacchanal around him to look the man in the eye -- trying, and failing, to level an intimidating stare at the man standing over him.

"I'd like a Vodka, neat. And, just out of curiosity, what if I wanted YOU to get under here and blow me?" Steve said, looking the middle-aged, fancily dressed man up and down, thinking how hot it would be to dominate an older man.

"Well, sir, such a thing would be possible, but then I would not be able to get your drink orders -- or else you would have to wait for me while your brother would get serviced right away," the host said, raising one hand slightly as a signal as he spoke. Within seconds two naked young men arrived at the table, quickly diving underneath it. Neither Talbot brother noticed their host depart, as each felt a skilled hand undo his fly and pull out his hard-on. Almost instantly each felt a hot mouth engulf his eager rod.

Taking a moment to take in the awesome sensation, Jeff looked around the room once again, this time realizing that many of the tables around them had a naked figure kneeling under it, working the cock of a seated man with his mouth and hands.

Trying to distract himself, worried that he'd blow his wad within seconds into the hot, sucking cavity, he looked to the stage in the back of the cavernous room for a distraction, only to find himself faced with the most bizarre magic act he'd ever seen -- a man wearing a typical magician's fancy-dress suit, complete with top had and coat, but with his fly seeming to have been cut away to allow his large, hard cock and heavy-looking balls to swing freely. The magician's assistant was even more eye-catching, not so much dressed as covered in glue-on pink sequins all over his arms, legs and torso -- or at least, all of the torso Jeff could see, as the boy was bent over a small table while the magician pulled what looked like foot after foot of plumbing pipe out the boy's asshole, handing each new piece over to an assistant covered in blue sequins. An angled mirror above the two performers gave a clear bird's-eye-view of the scene, so it was clear that the pipe was not simply being hidden on the other side of the pink assistant's body.

Turning his head, he saw that Steve was also watching the show, mouth wide open as he took it in. Steve then turned and looked back at his brother, a slight frown on his face.

"What, you don't like the show, or is your cocksucker not doing it for you?" Jeff couldn't help ribbing his little brother, feeling a rush of excitement as the suction of his hard tool added to the sight and sound of the magician as the man exclaimed into his head-mike, "As you can see, gentlemen, Cory really does have a bottomless pit back there, just as I said. But still, the poor boy is feeling the burn from all that mileage going past him -- allow me a moment to stroke and sooth him." So saying, he reached down with one of his white-gloved hands and, in a blink of Jeff's eyes, plunged the whole hand up to the elbow inside the asshole he'd just emptied.

"Holy crap, did you see that?" Jeff turned back to his still frowning brother.

"Jeff..." Steve seemed to be trying to say something, something he was having trouble putting into words. Just then their host returned with their drinks -- and appeared to have lost the crotch of his pants somewhere along the way, as they could now see a thick 7 inch erection poking out in front of him under the tray he was carrying.

Turning to the host as the man placed their drinks in front of them, Steve asked, "We are in the right place, aren't we? This is the Rose street club, right? We're here to meet Erick Talbot."

The mention of their father's name seemed to bring Jeff down to earth, realizing what was troubling his brother. Their FATHER had sent them here! Had the old man sent them to the wrong place, or was he a part of this strange hedonistic group -- surely not, not boring old Dad!

Both brothers now looked at their host, taking in his strange new outfit and comparing what they saw around them to the staid, boring person they'd always known their father to be. "Yes, sir, this is Mr. Talbot's club. I'll remind you, sir, I only showed you in after ascertaining that you both are, in fact, the sons of one of our members, as we don't usually allow non-members in." It was surreal, the way the man could speak with such dignity while his wedding-tackle was hanging out for all to see, twitching and leaking pre-cum in a steady stream. Meanwhile, their own throbbing members were being expertly serviced under their table by a pair of men they'd only caught glimpses of before they had ducked under their table.

Sharing a look of confusion, neither was willing to comment further -- after all, it was obviously some sort of misunderstanding, but no-one in his right mind said no to free drinks and a great blow job, however bizarre the circumstances.

Seeing the look pass between them, the host said, "Perhaps, sirs, you would rather wait for your father in more intimate surroundings? I'll remind you, there is a private room waiting for you."

"Um, I guess so," Jeff said, trying to work out in his head how to get up and walk while still keeping his dick inside the hot sucking mouth it was so thoroughly enjoying. But at his reply the boy servicing him pulled off with a slurping sound and started stuffing his cock back into his pants. By the groan of disappointment coming out of Steve's mouth, he was being similarly put away.

Standing up from the table, the brothers were soon joined by the two naked cocksuckers as they all followed their host towards the elevators banks, discreetly tucked to one side of the room.

"Take these gentlemen up to the fourth floor, please, Roddy, Mike," the host said, pressing on a button and nodding to the two fellatio-boys as the door pinged open.

Once inside, the one of the cocksuckers pushed the "4" button while the other commented to the Talbot brothers, "These elevators are part of the original building -- it takes forever to go from one floor to the next. So how's about we get this party started right now?" and so saying, both he and the other boy leaned against the mirror at the back of the elevator, pushing their high, round butts back at the more-than-willing brothers.

To his surprise, Jeff found that his chosen boy had already greased up his asshole, as the finger he had meant to push up to the nail went all the way to his second knuckle inside the waiting ass with ease. Steve didn't even bother with such refinements as feeling his boy up, and simply undid his fly, pulled out his cock and shoved home, immediately starting a hard, fast fuck up his boy's asshole. It didn't take more than a moment for Jeff to join him, pounding away in the butt-hole which had been winking seductively at him.

Jeff noticed the number "2" light up on the panel, realizing that the elevator really was that slow, so it was just as well that he and his brother hadn't waited since at this rate it would take them well over a minute to get to their destination. So, closing his eyes, he threw himself into the fuck in front of him, gripping the boy's hips hard as he rammed in and out, wet sloppy sounds emerging from his point of entry, as well as from the hard-fucking couple next to them.

Suddenly he heard a whooshing sound and, opening his eyes, Jeff saw in the mirror that two big, muscular men, both wearing black pants and tank-tops, had come aboard the elevator.

He had time for a quick yell of surprise before he was pulled backwards, something dark going over his head.

Then everything went black.

* * * *

Steve woke up to a feeling of pain in his arm and legs.

Blinking eyes that refused to focus, he realized that he was lying on his back, bent in half as his legs were forced wide open and his feet were somewhere above and behind his head. His hands also appeared restrained. Pulling his head back as far as it would go, he finally managed to make his eyes see clearly; a metal mesh headboard to which his ankles were attached using some sort of black bands -- leather? -- and a short length of chain padlocked to the mesh. Angling his head still further back, he was able to see his hands, connected at the wrists by some sort of padded cuffs, also wide and black with a single chain link connecting the two bands and a further length of chain padlocked to an eye bolt in the wall. A moment of hard pulling showed him that both sets of restraints were thoroughly secured.

A quickly aborted attempt to call for help showed him that the pressure he felt on his face was a gag firmly inserted into his mouth and tied around his head.

Turning his head, Steve saw that his brother was lying on another bed, trussed up and naked, the awkwardness of the identical pose he was placed in showing off his trim, cut physique. Steve suddenly realized that he too must be naked, since he couldn't feel any clothing on himself, aside from his restraints. What he did feel was very, very vulnerable.